


Pay the Piper

by lilylemoncakes



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Betty doesn't submit easily, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant Jughead, F/M, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Investigative Journalist Betty, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Serpent Prince Jughead, but she'll do anything for the right cause, now with more plot than porn, though theres no actual cheating here i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-20 21:37:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12442329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilylemoncakes/pseuds/lilylemoncakes
Summary: “A Serpent’s help comes with a price. And my price is you. In my bed and at my mercy. For one night.”Betty goes to the Whyte Wyrm to ask the Serpent Prince for a favor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, this is my first foray into the Riverdale fandom. I had to write this the moment I saw Jughead put on that Serpent jacket at the end of season one - oh the possibilities! :))) I also wanted to explore the dynamic between Serpent Jughead and a Betty who isn't as wholesome and nice as she's generally portrayed. We saw a hint of her ruthless side in the last episode, and I found it very interesting. I want more badass Betty! :)

Betty’s first visit to the Whyte Wyrm had been with Jughead, his arm around her waist as he showed her around, introducing her to his Serpent friends with a pleased grin on his face. “This is Betty, my girlfriend.” This was met mostly with snickers and smirks and someone coughing “whipped” into their fist. And while the ribbing was good-natured, Betty felt out of place and uncomfortable amidst the leather, the smoke and the heavy stench of alcohol. But Jughead was completely at ease, as he laughed and joked with this new friends. Like this was where he belonged.

It’s been years since that time, and as Betty steps through the doors of the Whyte Wyrm once more, she doesn’t feel any less out of place as she did then. And this time she has come alone.

She wraps her long beige coat around herself tightly as she walks in. She tries to avoid meeting anyone’s eye, but she can feel the curious gazes of almost everyone in the room. Her pale coat and blonde hair stand out like a beacon in the sea of black leather. Not everyone recognizes her. But those who do, whisper, “Jughead’s girl”.

That couldn’t be further from the truth. She hasn’t been _Jughead’s girl_ in years. It’s been many months since she’s even seen him or talked to him. Their last… encounter didn’t end pleasantly to say the least, with Betty swearing never to get involved with him in any way ever again.

And yet here she is, traveling all the way from New York City to see him. Fate, it would seem, really loves playing games with her.

Betty walks up to the bar and the pretty, pink-haired bartender behind it, who is busy mixing drinks. “Hey Toni,” she says, trying to get her attention.

Toni doesn’t look up. “Betty Cooper. How nice of you to grace our lowly establishment with your charming presence.”

Betty doesn’t miss the caustic tone. Toni hasn’t forgiven Betty for “breaking Jughead’s heart”, as she likes to describe it. But Toni only knows Jughead’s side of the story, not Betty’s. She doesn’t know that if Betty broke Jughead’s heart, he shattered hers to pieces.

“Toni,” Betty presses, “I know you don’t like me but this is urgent. I need to see him. Is he here?”

“Who are you looking for, gorgeous?” she hears someone say. “Toni’s busy, so maybe I can help you with that?”

Betty turns to find a blond man clad in Serpent leather leering at her. She’s never seen him before and he looks very young, so he’s probably one of their newer recruits. It’s doubtful he knows Jughead’s whereabouts.

“You look tense babe, you should relax a bit. Let me buy you a drink first hm?” He leans in closer.

Toni cuts in before Betty can respond. “Zack, trust me, you don’t want to do that.”

‘Zack’ chuckles. “Relax Toni. I was just trying to make _Betty_ here feel more welcome…” He trails off when a dark, looming presence appears behind him and jumps when a hand falls on his shoulder.

“You should listen to her, kid. Unless you have a death wish.”

Betty’s gaze travels from the thick arm on Zack’s shoulder up to the tall, dark-haired man who is staring down at Zack warningly. She recognizes who he is before she notices the Serpent tattoo on his neck. Jughead’s closest friend and right-hand man. Sweet Pea. “Hey there Betty,” he says to her when he meets her gaze. “It’s been a while.”

Betty smiles at him. “It has.”

“Jughead’s here, by the way,” he tells her, “Upstairs.”

Zack is now frowning in confusion, eyes darting between them. It takes a few moments before something seems to click in his brain and his eyes widen in realization. “Shit,” he says staring at Betty. “Sorry, uh, miss. I didn’t know you were um… _shit_.”

Betty shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not Jughead’s girlfriend, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’re still off-limits.” Sweet Pea’s grip on Zack’s shoulder tightened. “And this kid here should know that.”

Betty bristles at the implication. _Off-limits? I’m not anyone’s possession._ She doesn’t voice her indignation though. She’s come here to ask for a favor and she plans to be as amenable as possible.

Sweet Pea lets go of his death grip on Zack and approaches Betty. “You came here to see him didn’t you? Come on, I’ll take you to him.”

Betty nods. “Thank you.”

Sweet Pea waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t thank me. I’m just following orders. He’s been expecting you.”

Betty takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. _Of course he has._

“Alright then. Lead the way.”

-

“Sorry about Zack back there,” Sweet Pea says as they climb the stairs leading up to the more exclusive area of the Whyte Wyrm. “He got his jacket last week and thinks he’s hot shit.”

Betty’s lips twitch in amusement. Sweet Pea is one of the few Serpents she gets along with. He doesn’t seem to resent her the way Toni and some of the others do and has always been friendly to her. And he’s fiercely loyal to Jughead, which is something Betty appreciates.

“Funny, I remember thinking the same about you when I first met you,” she teases.

“And I thought you were a stuck-up princess who always toes the line,” he says wryly.

Betty laughs. “Come on, you still think of me that way, don’t you?”

“Nope, that’s what you want people to think of you.” He’s now leading her through a dark hallway. “But I know you better than that Betty. You’re more dangerous than you let on, you have no problem breaking the rules when you think it’s for the right cause.” He puts air quotes around the last two words. He glances at her through the corner of his eyes and there’s a crooked half-smile on his face as he says, “The other Serpents won’t agree with me, but I’m actually kind of glad you’re on our side.”

The smile on Betty’s face grows wider at his words. “You think I’m on your side?”

He shrugs. “Well, you wouldn’t keep coming back to the Whyte Wyrm if you weren’t.”

_Touché._

He stops in front of a door at the end of the hallway, brings his hand up and knocks on the door thrice. He doesn’t wait for a response before he opens the door and lets her in. The smell of smoke and leather assaults her senses as soon as she enters the room and the sudden bright lights after the darkness of the hallway make her dazed.

She sees them when her eyes finally adjust to the brightness. Fangs Fogarty. Joaquin DeSantos. Tall Boy. Bruiser. There are a few new faces too. They stand around the room smoking, drinking and laughing.

And in the center of it all, lounging on the plush couch, is the Serpent Prince himself. Jughead Jones.

He is dressed all in black, dark jeans and a black button-up, but he’s not wearing his Serpent jacket. His thick hair is pushed back neatly, very different from the boyish mess Betty remembers from when he was a teenager. He sits with his legs crossed, a cigarette pinched between his index and middle fingers. His sprawl is casual, but there is something about him that oozes power. And it does things to Betty that she doesn’t want to dwell on.

Sweet Pea clears his throat. “Jughead, you have a… visitor.”

The rooms gets quieter as the men start to notice the newcomer in their midst. There are murmurs and raised eyebrows and Fangs Fogarty shakes his head and rolls his eyes as if saying, _not again_. Betty isn’t surprised by their reaction. She knows half the Serpents hate her, or at least hate the reactions she evokes from their leader.

Jughead’s gaze has been on Betty since the moment she entered the room. He says nothing, simply watching her through half-lidded eyes, as she grows more and more uncomfortable under the scrutiny. She refuses to look away though, holding his gaze defiantly. “Hello Jughead,” she says sweetly.

Jughead takes a drag from his cigarette and exhales slowly. The smoke briefly obscures his face. “Elizabeth Cooper,” he murmurs, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Betty opens her mouth to answer, but hesitates, eyeing the other men in the room.

Jughead senses her hesitance. “Looks like the lady would like to speak to me in private,” he addresses his men, “So gentlemen, if you could.” He motions to the door.

Joaquin smiles at her as he leaves, while Fangs gives her an unimpressed look. Sweet Pea simply nods. One by one, the men leave the room, finally leaving her alone with presumably the most dangerous man in Upstate New York.

_Now if that isn’t an intimidating thought._

Jughead puts his cigarette out and gets up from the couch. “So tell me Elizabeth,” he says as he approaches her, “is this is a social call or a booty call?” His lips curve up into a teasing grin.

She rolls her eyes at his terrible joke. “Neither, and stop calling me Elizabeth.”

Jughead looks affronted. “Why not? That’s the name you use in the byline of all your articles isn’t it?” He regards her with a tilt of his head. “Yes, I’ve read all of them. I was especially impressed with your expose on major drug traffickers on the East Coast. I never got around to thanking you for keeping the Serpents out of it.”

“Well, I’m glad your reading habits extend beyond hit lists,” Betty says, “and you don’t have to thank me. My expose would have been incomplete without the information you gave me when you came to New York City.”

“Hmm, I remember that.” Jughead licks his lips. “This was 4 months ago wasn’t it? Remind me - did I give you the information before or after I made you come with my tongue in your cunt?”

Betty feels her eyes widen and her face flush at his words, and her lips part in an involuntary gasp. He’s looking at her in triumph, and she knows, she knows he says such things to get under her skin. It’s always been a game with them – who can affect the other the most, a game she seems to lose more often than win. She hates how he can make her lose her composure so easily. She wants to use all her force to push him. She wants to grab him by the lapels of his shirt and kiss him. Anything to wipe the arrogant smirk off his face.

She settles for closing her eyes and breathing deeply, trying to calm herself. “Jughead, please. This is not what I came here for.”

“Enlighten me then. You never bothered to keep in touch after that night. And tonight, you just walk in to the Whyte Wyrm expecting to see me.” Betty opens her eyes to see that all traces of humor have vanished from his face. “So tell me Betty, why are you here?”

“You already know Jughead,” she says, her voice small, “Sweet Pea told me you were expecting me. And you wouldn’t have known I was coming unless you knew why.”

“Is that so?”

“Archie is missing,” Betty says desperately. “He’s been missing for a week now.”

“I don’t see how that’s my problem.” His expression is shuttered.

Betty stares at him disbelievingly. “You can’t possibly mean that.”

“People go missing every day.”

“Archie is your friend Jughead. Your best friend.”

“Was,” he corrects, voice cold as ice, “was my best friend. Until I joined the Serpents and he decided I was worse than the dirt on his shoe.”

“That is not true and you know it. He was just worried about you, we were all worried - ”

Jughead raises his hand. “Just stop Betty. I’m not interested in rehashing the same argument about what happened in high school. It’s been 7 years now and I’ve moved on. Tell me what you want so we can get this over with.”

“Well, I,” Betty feels at a loss for words, “I came to ask for your help to find him.”

Jughead regards her coolly. “So let me get this straight – you came to ask your ex-boyfriend to help you find your current boyfriend.”

Betty frowns. “No I came to ask a friend to help me find _our_ friend.” When Jughead doesn’t say anything she continues, “The cops have no leads and my other contacts are too scared to say anything. Archie’s gotten himself mixed up in something big this time. I’m sure if you ask around you will find some clues.”

Jughead remains silent as he walks to the large window in the room and gazes out into the night. He seems to be considering her words. “I could help you,” he says slowly. He turns to look at her, leaning back against the wall next to the window, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. “What’s in it for me though?”

Betty blinks, taken aback by his words. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I can ask around, make a few calls, spend time out of my extremely busy schedule to help you out,” he’s staring at her intently through hooded eyes, much like how he was when she’d entered the room and it makes her squirm, “but what do I get in return?”

“The satisfaction of saving the life of an old friend?” Betty tries weakly.

Jughead chuckles and shakes his head. He moves from his position against the wall and approaches her slowly, hands in his pockets and a predatory look on his face. He has lost the slouch he had in his teenage days, and he no longer wears the crown beanie he used to carry around as a sign of his vulnerability. This confident, self-assured man striding purposefully towards her is not the boy she fell in love with.

But it doesn’t stop her from getting affected by him so.

“Fine. What do you want?” she huffs in an attempt to hide her nerves. “Money? Some dirt on your rival gang in Greendale? Or an interview in the New York Times where you can wax poetic about your Robin Hood-esque contributions to the less fortunate sections of society?”

Jughead is very close now. So close that he’s towering over her. His shirt is unbuttoned at the top and she can see a hint of defined pectoral muscles. She suppresses the urge to lick the sheen of sweat gathering at his collarbone, and settles for licking her lips instead.

He puts a finger under her chin and tilts her head up. His eyes are dark and they gaze at her in open desire. “You know exactly what I want, Elizabeth.” He says her name so lasciviously that it leaves her weak in the knees.

She puts a hand on his chest to stop him from coming any closer. “You can’t possibly be serious,” she breathes.

“Oh, I’m very serious. A Serpent’s help comes with a price.” The finger under her chin trails up along her jaw and then dips down her neck until it reaches the hollow of her throat. “And my price is you. In my bed and at my mercy. For one night.” Lips hover inches away from hers. “What do you say Betty? Our bodies are no strangers to each other. You know exactly what to expect. I’ll make sure it’s a satisfying experience for both of us.”

Their breaths mingle for several moments. She doesn’t answer.

She’s tempted to say yes. She’s tempted to bridge the gap between their lips and kiss him. But she wants to see if he will break and do it himself, without waiting for her answer. The look in his eyes suggests he very much wants to.

She tries to hide her disappointment when he steps away instead.

“Think about it,” he says and starts walking back towards the couch. “And come back to me when you have an answer.”

Betty sighs. She’s far too gone to rationally think about anything. Her decision is already made.

“Alright,” she says. He stops and turns around. “Alright what?”

“Alright I accept.” She starts to loosen the buttons on her coat. “Go ahead, have your wicked way with me.” She shrugs off her coat to reveal her modest pink blouse and blue jeans.

He raises an eyebrow. “Right now?”

“Yes, unless you can’t take time out of your ‘extremely busy schedule’.”

Jughead smirks. “Eager to get under me, are you?”

“Eager to find Archie before it’s too late,” she throws back.

The mention of his former best friend triggers something in Jughead. His smirk morphs into a grimace and he’s on her in three strides, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her flush against his body. “And when you find him, will you tell him about us?” he whispers, his lips brushing against her earlobe, “Will you tell him how you let his childhood best friend use you and fuck you?”

“I’ll tell him I did what I had to, to save him.”

He snarls at that, bringing one hand up to tug at her hair, forcing her head back to face him. And then his lips are on hers.

Jughead invades and plunders her mouth with his tongue, moaning like he’s savoring his favorite cuisine. His hands are everywhere – cupping her breasts, groping her ass, yanking at her hair, slipping beneath her blouse. Betty is overwhelmed by the sensations. She cards her fingers through his thick hair and melts against him, unresisting, as he practically mauls her. She knows it drives him crazy when he’s consumed by the need to dominate as he is now and she completely submits to him.

He growls, breaking the kiss, and bends down to attack her neck with teeth and tongue. He walks them back until she’s stuck between him and the wall behind her. He lifts her leg, hooks it behind him and grinds his clothed hardness against her. Her loud moan echoes around the room. “Jughead, _please_.”

He’s now laving at the angry-looking hickey he’s left on her neck. “Please what, Betty? I thought you were doing this to save your boyfriend,” he spits out the last word. “And here you are practically begging me to ravish you.” He lifts his head and bites her ear, “Will you tell him about that?”

Before she can answer he thrusts against her again, eliciting moans from both of them. “And will you tell him about what happened four months ago in New York City, when I made you come so many times you couldn’t pick your boyfriend out of a line up.” He’s now rutting against her in earnest, panting against her ear. “Or our time in that fancy hotel in Miami, when your gorgeous breasts were pressed up against the glass window for the whole world to see, while I pounded into you from behind. Will you tell him about that too?”

She flushes and bites her lips and turns her face away.

“Oh no Betty, you don’t get to look away.” He grabs her chin and forces her to look at him.

She can guess what he sees in her eyes – desire, shame, guilt… and a spark of something else. The spark that had made her mention Archie to provoke him, to make him lose control.

He sees that spark in her eyes and as much as she tries to hide it, he knows. He knows she mentioned Archie just to get a rise out of him. To prove that she affected him as much as he affected her. And he knows that she’s won this round of their little game. He stills his movements and narrows his eyes at her.

“Well played, Elizabeth,” he says and releases her, though she can feel some reluctance in his movement, and steps away. “I should know you like to play dirty.”

“I learn from the best,” she breathes out. She leans against the wall for support, still a bit dazed and flustered. She can’t help feel a little annoyed at how composed he looks despite what they had been doing just moments earlier. The only indication that he’s affected at all is the impressive tent in his jeans.

He’s now gazing at her with a calculating look in his eyes, as if conspiring how to get even. She knows that look, and she has a pretty good idea what it’s going to lead to. She shivers in anticipation.

“You remember the part of our deal where I said I want you at my mercy tonight?” he asks her, his voice low, “It means I want you to submit to me. Completely.” He grabs her chin with one hand and runs his thumb across her bottom lip. “For the entire night, you do exactly as I say. No dirty tricks. You don’t touch until I want you to, you don’t move until I tell you to and you don’t come until I allow you to. Do you understand?”

Betty swallows and nods.

“Good.” He then turns and walks to the couch and sits on it with his legs crossed, one arm flung over the back and the other beckoning her, a devilish grin on his face.

“Come on then Betty, I want to see you strip for me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments and kudos! Here's the next chapter, and it took only what, 6 months? :P There's only one more chapter left in this fic and I'll try to get that out quicker, as long as RL doesn't get in the way.

Betty remembers a time when Jughead’s gazes were soft and reverent, like he couldn’t quite believe she was his girlfriend. “You’re so beautiful Betts, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at you,” he would say. She remembers them sitting at a booth at Pop’s, Betty rambling about something or the other until she would catch Jughead’s fond look that would make her absolutely melt, and she couldn’t help but reach over and kiss him.

All that seems like a lifetime ago - they are different people now. She knows it, because all Jughead’s gazes convey now are hunger, lust and a need to possess. There’s no softness or fondness in his gazes anymore. And while Betty likes to think she has moved on, there are times when she reminisces and the memories makes Betty ache with the loss, and it makes her want to wish away their turbulent history and go back to the time when they were innocent teenagers in love.

She doesn’t know why she’s thinking about this now, when she’s pretty much agreed to let him do what he wants to her in exchange for his help. He’s watching her with the same hungry look that she’s come to expect from him, and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t just as hungry for him as he is for her. And yet that twinge of longing for what was lost remains.

“I’m waiting Betty.”

Jughead’s words cut through her thoughts. She watches as he pours himself a drink from the bottle of expensive-looking scotch on the side table and drops 3 cubes of ice into it. He brings the glass to his lips and takes a sip, raising an eyebrow at her questioningly. “Well? The extent of my help will depend on how satisfied I am by the end of the night, just so you know.”

Betty rolls her eyes and sighs. She knows she needs to get her head in the game. Sex is nothing more than a bargaining chip for them now, it has nothing to do with feelings anymore. Jughead has made that quite clear from his demands tonight. And the earlier she accepts this, the better for her.

She toes off her shoes and approaches him. His gaze is riveted on her and she feels the familiar thrill of anticipation that had briefly gone away due to her rueful musings. No matter the ups and downs of their relationship, the sex has always been fantastic. She stops a couple of feet away from him.

“And what would satisfy you, Mr. Jones?” she asks.

Ice clinks against glass as he takes another sip of his scotch, eyes still fixed on her. “I think you’re perfectly aware what, Elizabeth.”

_Indeed I am._ She knows Jughead likes it when she submits to him, but she isn’t feeling particularly submissive right now. She wants to break that cocksure demeanor of his, she wants to push his buttons and tease him.

She wills her nerves to calm down and throws a flirty smile at him. She lifts one hand, gently brushing her fingers along her collarbone until they reach the first button on her blouse. Then she brings both hands up and starts undoing the buttons, one by one, tantalizingly exposing her creamy white skin along the way. She doesn’t remove her blouse once it’s fully unbuttoned. Instead she turns around and away from him, unbuttons her jeans and removes them slowly while bending down, deliberately sticking her ass out while she does so.

She hears a sharp intake of breath from Jughead at that and smiles to herself.

She shrugs off her blouse and turns back around to face him, now clad in nothing but her dark blue lace bra and panties. 

Jughead’s eyes roam over her body, pausing at her fancy lingerie. “That doesn’t look like your everyday underwear.” His voice is rough.

Betty hums noncommittally. “It is not.”

“Did you wear that just for me?”

She reaches back and pulls off the band holding her hair up in a half ponytail. Long blonde locks tumble around her shoulder as she runs her fingers gently through her hair. “Maybe,” she answers, giving him a coy smile.

His lips curve up slowly into a lascivious grin. “You wicked, wicked girl. You planned this. You knew this would happen, didn’t you?”

“We always seem to end up in bed every time we meet. I thought I’d be little prepared this time,” she says teasingly. “I certainly didn’t plan for me to become your sex slave for the night.”

Jughead chuckles. “Sex slave? How crude.”

“So,” she asks, with a tilt of her head, fingers still playing with her hair. “Does this satisfy you, Mr. Jones?”

“Not even close,” he murmurs, “Come here.” He puts his drink down and holds one hand out. She takes it and squeaks when he immediately pulls her down to his lap. She puts both hands on his shoulders for balance as she positions herself to face him. She expects his hands on her body, but he rests one hand on her thigh and uses the other to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’m not going to be satisfied so easily,” he leans in to whisper. Then, moving back and draping both arms along the back of the couch, he says, “I would like a lap dance now.”

Betty blinks. “But… there is no music.”

He smirks. “I think you can make do without.”

She’s half-tempted to get up and dig out her phone from her discarded coat so she can play something she can move to. But she hears the dull thump of music coming from the bar downstairs and though it’s soft, she thinks she can use the beat. She’s not one for bold, sensual displays, but something about being in Jughead’s presence always makes her want to shed her inhibitions. She tightens her grip on his shoulders and gives a tentative wiggle, feeling his hardness pressed up against her.

She closes her eyes, focusing on the dull beats of music coming from below, and starts grinding down on him. His jeans rub against her, creating delicious friction. Her lips part and her face flushes and even though her eyes are closed, she can feel the heat of Jughead’s gaze on her.

She wonders what she must look like, squirming in his lap, clad in nothing but her lacy underthings while he’s still fully clothed. She feels like a high-priced escort servicing a mob boss. The thought excites her even more and she desperately wants to feel his hands on her. She can hear the sounds of his harsh breathing, but he still doesn’t touch her.

Downstairs in the bar, the music changes to something slower. Feeling a little emboldened she opens her eyes and lifts herself up, twisting around in his lap so that she’s facing away from him. She leans back against him, reaching back to loop her arms around his neck and starts grinding back into him. She can feel his breath coming out in short pants against her ear.

His hands come down to grip her hips, fingers splayed. “Stop,” he says, his grip preventing her from moving, “I want to see your pretty face when you’re writhing so shamelessly on top of me.” His head dips and his lips gently brush against her neck. “Turn around,” he commands.

She bites her lip and obeys.

His hands are on her now, roaming around freely in gentle caresses, mapping her curves as if reacquainting himself with her body. She shivers when his fingers brush against her stomach and trail down to her lacy panties, where his touch becomes firmer as he presses a finger against her wetness. Betty moans and arches her back. He chuckles. “Look at you, already so wet for me.” She squirms as he rubs at her clit through her panties.

He reaches for his unfinished drink and for a moment Betty is annoyed that he’s actually thinking of drinking when he’s practically fingering her, but that thought stutters to a halt when he brings the chilled glass up and presses it against her flushed skin. She hisses at the sensation. “Jughead, what…?”

Without warning, he tilts the glass and ice cold liquid pours down her body in a thin rivulet. She shudders as it trails from her collarbone, down to her breasts and moans when Jughead leans forward and licks at it. “Delicious,” he murmurs. One arm comes up to grab her by the waist, angling her so he can mouth her nipples through silk and lace. “Take this off,” he says roughly, biting at the strap of her bra.

She reaches behind and unhooks it, sliding it off her with shaky fingers. Jughead makes a noise of approval. He pours more of his drink on her, this time directly on her breast, catching it as it trails down her mound and over her nipple. The contrasting sensations of the chilled drink followed by the warmth of this tongue makes her breathless and all she can do is tangle her fingers through his hair and press him closer to her chest. The rich smell of scotch permeates her senses and she feels drunk just from the fumes. Jughead keeps pouring and licking until the drink is over and she’s a quivering, moaning mess by the end.

He discards the empty glass and now both his arms are wrapped around her, holding her close as his lips trail up her neck and jaw until he’s finally kissing her. Unlike his earlier kiss, there is no aggression or desperation this time. He kisses her lazily, licking into her, massaging her tongue, like they have all the time in the world. Her breasts are pressed up against his hard chest, rubbing at the thin cotton of his shirt. She desperately wants to feel his skin against hers, but Jughead seems to have other ideas.

His lips part hers with a wet smack as he breaks the kiss, twisting her around and laying her down on the couch. She stares up at him, wide eyed and breathing heavily as he looms over her, his eyes darkened with arousal. His hands tug at her panties, pulling them down. “So beautiful,” he whispers, “so fucking beautiful, and all mine.” Then he bends down and licks at her clit and for the life of her Betty can’t say otherwise.

Her entire body clenches as his rough tongue sucks and strokes her wetness slowly and lazily, mirroring the kiss they had shared earlier. Her hands futilely grope against the leather of the couch and she chokes out his name. He lets out a huff of laughter at that and she feels it against her and it makes her toes curl. She’s far too gone now to care, completely at his mercy and he realizes it too, if the triumphant look in his eyes is anything to go by.

She can feel the heat and pleasure building at her core and she knows she’s close, utterly undone by his wicked tongue. “Jughead, ah, I’m going to – ”

Jughead stops.

Betty stares at him dazedly as he lifts his head up and wipes at his wet, swollen lips with the back of his hand. “What… why did you…?” are the only words her confused, pleasure-addled brain can manage.

There’s a look of faint amusement on his face. “Why Betty, you didn’t think I was going to let you come so soon, did you?” He cups her breast and tweaks her nipple. “Not when you riled me up like that earlier, dangling your boyfriend in front of me.”

Betty blinks. _Boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend. What is he talking about?_ She almost says the words out loud but stops herself as the fog clears and the meaning of his words register in her brain. He’s talking about Archie, she realizes. Her confusion turns into irritation and she glares at him. The combination of having been denied a mind-blowing orgasm and the infuriatingly smug look on his face makes her annoyance spike. “Fuck you,” she mutters.

“Language Betty,” Jughead chides, “and now I’m going to have to punish you for that.”

Before she can respond, he gets up from the couch grabs her by the waist and throws her on his shoulder like she weighs nothing. She lets out a sound of protest, her face red in embarrassment at being so prone and helpless, completely naked in his arms as he carries her through a doorway into what looks like a bedroom. She lets out an “oof” as he throws her none too gently on the bed.

“I see you’ve been redecorating,” she says, “a bed in your backroom. How tacky.”

“Business forces me to spend many nights here and I’d rather sleep on a bed than on a couch.” He bends down to remove his shoes. Then he climbs on to the bed, looming on top of her. “Also, it has… other uses,” he adds with a sly grin.

Betty feels her gut twist in jealousy, and tries not to think of other women he might have brought back here to fuck.

“So Betty,” he brings his lips close to her ear, “are you ready for your punishment?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah! This one took only 4 months - take that Chapter 2!!  
> Seriously, thank you for following this fic even though I'm such a slow updater. I've learned my lesson, so next time I write a fic I will wait until I've written a good chunk of it before I start posting :)  
> And thank you everyone who left comments and kudos. I know I've been late at replying to them, but I do cherish them all :)))

_“Jughead, no, you can't just break up with me every time things start to go bad for you.”_

_“Betty, can't you see? You don't belong in this world full of Serpents and thugs. I'm trying to protect you.”_

_“Oh please, this is what, the fourth time you’re breaking up with me for my ‘protection’? Have you considered that I want to stay with you because I want to protect_ you _!”_

_“If you want to protect me, then stay away from me!”_

_“Oh screw you Jughead Jones! You know, one of these days you’ll get what you wanted and you’ll push me away one last time before it finally sticks.”_

_“It would be for the best. I mean, why delay the inevitable? Look at you, Betty Cooper. Girls like you don't end up with guys like me. You end up with guys like Trevor Brown or Reggie Mantle or …”_

_“Or who, Jughead? Archie Andrews?”_

-

“Nnngh” Betty moans incoherently as Jughead grazes his teeth against the sensitive column of her neck. He has her effectively trapped between his body and the bed, one hand wrapped none-too-gently around both her wrists and pinning her arms firmly above her head. His other hand trailing along her back, stopping to roughly squeeze her ass.

“Jughead,” Betty sighs. It both infuriates and arouses her that he’s still fully clothed while she’s writhing under him naked. “Please,” she says, uncertain what she’s begging for.

Jughead growls, mouth latching onto her neck and sucking a bruise into her skin. Betty bites her lip and her eyes flutter open, partly in surprise. In their past encounters, Jughead had been careful not to leave marks. Now she can feel his tongue possessively laving at the very visible hickey on her neck.

“Is this my punishment?” she breathes teasingly.

Jughead looks up at that, his eyes glinting and lips threatening to curve into a mischievous grin, and Betty is suddenly reminded of the old, mystery-hunting, guzzling-down-burgers-at-Pop’s Jughead, and her heart aches just a little.

He doesn’t answer her. He pulls out his arm from underneath her, and reaches out to the side table near the bed. She hears the sound of a drawer sliding and then the chink of something metallic.

He lets go of his firm grip over her wrists and she gasps as she feels cool metal replace his touch. She hears the click of a latch before she finally realizes what he just did.

“Handcuffs? Are you kidding me?” she asks as she stares in disbelief at her now bound hands. The handcuffs were plain and solid, something that a cop would carry. Betty didn’t want to know how Jughead got them. “You’re barely a step away from the cliched mobster, aren’t you?”

Jughead is grinning at her shamelessly. “I like to go with tried and tested methods.”

Betty huffs at that, rolling her eyes. “A king-sized bed, mood lighting and handcuffs. Just how often to do you do this?” she can’t stop herself from asking.

He chuckles. “Is that jealousy I hear, Elizabeth?” He trails a finger down her face. “Would you rather I do this with only you?”

 _Yes_ , she thinks unreasonably, _I want you to touch me and no one else._

She doesn’t voice her thoughts, and looks away from his gaze.

“Now, none of that Elizabeth,” he chides, “it’s not like you’ve not let other men touch you.” His gaze hardens. “Touch what belongs to me.”

Betty glares at him. “I don’t belong to you, Jughead Jones. No matter what you or your little Serpent army thinks.”

Jughead growls and his fingers pull at her hair tilting her face up, as he leans down to give a slow lick against her cheek. “And yet you keep coming back to me,” he whispers. “Coming back for more.”

He kisses her, aggressively, biting and licking, until Betty is sure her lips are red and swollen. He breaks away and looms on top of her, taking in the sight of her laid out in front of him like an offering. She can only imagine what she must look like, pale skin a stark contrast against the black sheets, hands restrained with handcuffs, lips red from kissing.

His gaze is dark as he sucks one finger into his mouth and then brings it down to press it against her clit.

“Fuck.” Betty arches up from the bed. She’s still sensitive from Jughead’s ministrations from before and even the lightest of touches makes her see stars.

“Such a pretty girl, with such a filthy mouth.” He’s gently rubbing her clit now, and it’s making Betty absolutely crazy. “I think we should put that mouth to good use.”

He moves away to sit on his knees, fiddling with the button on his jeans and pullings them down just enough to free his erection. His gaze doesn’t move away from her as he tugs at his cock, stroking it lazily. Betty bites her lip.

“Look at you, you’re practically gagging for it,” he leers at her. He brings her face closer and it's a testament to how far gone she is that she goes without protest. They both still when her lips touch the tip of his erection. “Suck,” he commands.

It isn’t the most comfortable position, with him being above her and her hands bound by handcuffs, so she lifts her head up and licks, the underside at first, and then the head. She can hear his breath becoming sharper as her licks grow bolder, tongue curving around his hardness. He groans and throws his head back in pleasure as she mouths and sucks at the head. She feels dizzy with power at his reactions, that she’s the one doing this to him.

She wants to take more of him in so she leans up, but the angle is awkward and she ends up gagging instead. She falls back on the bed with an “oof” and the moment is broken.

Jughead is now looking at her with amusement in his eyes. “Too hard for you sweetheart?”

Betty glares at him through her blush. “If you’d just take these stupid handcuffs off and let me do this properly.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Jughead chides. He moves to take his jeans off completely, and unbuttons his shirt, shrugging it off. Betty’s eyes feast on his lean, hard chest, the firm definitions of his muscles.

“So tell me Betty, how did you want to do this _properly_?” He looms over her. “Did you want me to fuck your mouth until I come down your throat?” Betty gasps as he presses his body to hers, skin-to-skin. “Or did you want to continue licking at me until I come all over your pretty face?”

Betty turns her face away, her skin burning everywhere his body touches hers. She can feel his breath against her face, his hardness against her thigh, and she feels completely overwhelmed by the sensations. By him.

His lips brush her cheek. “Or…” His fingers trail down and press against her wetness. “Is it here that you want my cock?”

Betty moans and arches against him. “Jughead...please…”

“Please what, Betty?”

“Please, fuck me….Juggie…” she gasps out brokenly.

Something snaps inside Jughead at that, and he grabs her chin and kisses her like a man possessed. She moans into his mouth as she feels two fingers enter her, scissoring her, making her impossibly wet.

“Going to fuck you,” Jughead promises against her lips, “going to cover you in my scent.”

“Yes,” she pleads, “need you.”

The fingers move away and she feels the blunt end of his cock pressing at her wetness. They both moan as he enters her in one smooth thrust.

“God, Betts! You feel so,” Jughead sounds broken, “fuck!”

He leans down to capture her lips again as he starts rocking into her in slow, deliberate thrusts. His fingers trail up her arms to capture her bound hands, fingers intertwined. She feels completely surrounded by him, his heat, his smell, his lips, they consume her. The familiar ache is building inside her, and it’s not enough. She wants more.

Her lips break away from his to moan, “Nnngh… harder, Juggie.”

“Fuck,” Jughead swears as she spreads her legs for him. He looks down at her with eyes crazy with lust. His movements speed up, his cock going impossibly deep inside her, making her moan wantonly with each thrust.

They are both loud. She can hear the headboard hitting the wall with the force of their fucking. Anyone coming anywhere near the room would have no doubt what they were doing. But Betty is far too gone to care.

“Betts,” Jughead pants in her ear. “Look at you Betts, so easy for me.” He brings down one hand to grab at her leg and folding it, angling his thrusts so he can go even deeper.

“God Betts, so beautiful, so gorgeous, why would I want anyone else?” Jughead is mindlessly murmuring against her ear. “Like anyone else could possibly compare.” He’s actively rutting into her now. “Only you Betts, it’s only ever been you.”

It’s his confession, more than anything, that pushes her off the edge. Her orgasm hits her like a wave in a thunderstorm, her body arching off the bed, her walls clenching around the thick cock inside her. Jughead groans loudly, eyes clenched and head thrown back, and Betty moans along with him as she feels him come inside her, filling her up.

Jughead’s lips trace her jaw, leaving wet kisses in their wake. His hips shift slightly against hers, riding out the rest of his release. The room is quiet, but for the sound of their heavy breathing.

“So,” Betty breaks the silence, “Does this satisfy you, Mr. Jones?”

She can feel his lips curve into a grin against her neck. “Not even close.”

-

_“So I just got a text from my contact at NYPD. Your information was gold, Jughead. The cops are definitely going to catch those human traffickers now-”_

_“Stay, Betty.”_

_“What…?”_

_“Stay with me. I...could take you out for dinner.”_

_“Is that - are you asking me out on a date?”_

_“Thought it was obvious.”_

_“I didn’t realize we were in a ‘go-out-for-dinner-after-sex’ kind of relationship.”_

_“We aren’t. But we could be.”_

_Silence._

_“Betty?”_

_“Jughead...I...I can’t.”_

_“Why not? Are you seeing someone?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Right.”_

_“Why are you angry? You’re the one who ended things between us, remember? Two years back. And it finally stuck. Just like you wanted.”_

_“Didn’t stop you from falling into bed with me.”_

_“Yeah, that’s not the same things though, is it?”_

_“Who are you seeing then?”_

_“Jughead, that’s not-”_

_“Tell me.”_

_A pause._

_“Archie Andrews.”_

-

Betty wakes in the middle of the night. It is quiet, save for the soft snores coming from Jughead. She absently rubs her wrists, where she can still feel the ghost of the hard metal of the handcuffs. Jughead had removed them sometime after their first round of sex, when she had begged and pleaded for him to take them off so she could touch him, and she had shown her gratitude by going down on him, properly this time.

Its a good thing she's on the pill. Jughead had taken her raw and come inside her twice that night.

She watches him as he sleeps. His face is soft, with none of the sharp edges and sly smiles that he wears when awake. He’s sleeping on his stomach, face turned towards her, one arm reaching out to her as if reassuring himself that she’s still there.

Her heart clenches. She could almost convince herself that nothing has changed, like they are still the same naive teenagers in love and they are back in his old trailer where they had sex for the first time.

_We are different people now._

She remembers their turbulent relationship. How much she tried to hold on to Jughead and how much he tried to push her away, until she finally had enough. The summer that she moved to start her job at the New York Times, they broke up - for good.

But they could never stay away from each other for too long, and with her becoming an investigative journalist and him gaining several contacts in the underworld, their relationship turned into a mutually beneficial, no-strings-attached one. It was sexy, uncomplicated and thrilling, with none of the heartache and perhaps, Betty thought, this was how it was meant to be. It had been going just fine, until one day Jughead asked her out to dinner. Betty had panicked and lied that she was seeing someone, and she had said the one name she knew would deter Jughead from ever thinking they had a future. Archie Andrews.

Jughead hadn’t even blinked at that, almost like he had expected it. Like it was a foregone conclusion that she would end up with Archie.

It had been 2 years since then and while they continued to meet up and sleep with each other, Betty had said nothing to disabuse the notion that she was dating Archie.

She tells herself it's because their relationship is better off this way. She doesn't think she can bear to go through the same heartbreak again.

_But, we are different people now._

Betty gently brushes the dark curls falling over Jughead’s forehead and remembers his words when they were in the throes of passion. _Only you Betts, it’s only ever been you._

She smiles and leans over and presses her lips to his forehead. “It’s only ever been you for me Juggie,” she whispers, “no one else.”

She feels the arm around her tightening as she falls into a dreamless sleep.

-

The next time Betty wakes, it is to the sight of Jughead shirtless and leaning against the bright window, his dark jeans slung low on his hips. He takes a slow sip from the steaming cup in his hand. “Morning,” he says. “Would you like some coffee?”

Betty rubs her eyes and sits up on the bed. “No thanks, I...should be going.” She looks around the room. “My clothes..?”

“On the chair over there.” Jughead nods to his left.

Betty blushes as she puts on her clothes. She has her back turned to him, but she can still feel his heated gaze against her skin.

She brushes her hair with her fingers, trying to look less like she’s had a night of kinky, mind-blowing sex with her gangster ex-boyfriend, and turns around. Jughead is looking at her expectantly.

“So, um,” Betty begins. She doesn’t know why she’s feeling so nervous all of a sudden. “If you find anything about Archie, just give me a call.”

Jughead nods. “Check the file on the side table,” he says simply.

Betty blinks in surprise. She picks up the file and gasps. Inside there are pictures of Archie talking to a couple of men - one of them looks like a cop, the other is in plain clothes but is carrying a gun. There are some documents too - ledgers, shipment details, financial statements for Lodge Industries.

Betty looks up in shock. “Jughead, what…?”

“Archie is working with the FBI. For real this time,” he says with a derisive smirk.

“How did you know?”

“My men found FBI agents snooping around in Riverdale, so I sent them to investigate why they were here. One of them followed the agents and took some pictures. Imagine my surprise when I saw a very familiar face with them.”  

Betty frowns. “So Archie’s helping them investigate Lodge Industries.”

“Nothing escapes the brilliant investigative journalist, Elizabeth Cooper,” Jughead says mockingly.

She ignores the jibe. “And the documents?”

“Copies of documents I sent anonymously to Archie, to help him along.” He shrugs. “Figured it benefits the Serpents if the FBI finally manages to nail Hiram Lodge.”

“So where’s Archie now?”

“I’m guessing he’s in witness protection. I’ve heard some noise about Hiram being out for his blood.”

Betty takes a deep breath, trying to take in everything Jughead has just told her. “So that means… you already knew. Last night.” She glares at him. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Jughead chuckles. “Oh come on Betty. You once told me that good information should never be given away for free. What we did last night was a fair transaction.”

Betty grits her teeth and looks away.

“I must say though, I’m surprised,” Jughead continues, “that Archie didn’t tell you all this himself. Considering he’s your _boyfriend_.”

Betty feels herself flush. She doesn’t know if its because of embarrassment at having been called out, or because of guilt for feeding Jughead that lie for almost 2 years.

“Being in a relationship doesn’t mean an end to secrets. You should know.”

The grin on Jughead’s face fades and he turns his gaze away to stare out of the window. “Right. I should know.”

Betty bites her lip guiltily. “Jughead, I didn’t mean-”

“You should leave, Betty,” Jughead interrupts her. “We both got what we wanted from each other. No point in you sticking around. If your boyfriend ever comes out of witness protection, tell him I said hi.” His tone is curt.

 _He’s not my boyfriend_ , she wants to say, _he was never my boyfriend. What I once felt for him is nothing compared what I felt for you. Still feel for you._

She doesn’t say it.

“Goodbye Jughead.”

Jughead gives her an imperceptible nod, not looking away from the window.

“And thank you.”

She leaves.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys, don't pull out the pitchforks just yet XD I know I said this would be the last chapter, but I do plan to add a short epilogue to wrap things up. Will it be a happy ending though...? Not telling!! :P


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this was supposed to be a short epilogue to wrap things up but it grew into a full-blown chapter :D And would you look at that, it took me only 1.5 months to update this time, there's hope for me yet!!

Betty hears the familiar chime of a notification and glances at her phone. The screen is too bright against the darkness.  
  
_Hiram Lodge Arrested,_ the little bubble reads, _CEO of Lodge Industries charged by FBI, Sabrina Spellman of the Post reports…_  
  
Betty lets out a huff of annoyance. If only Archie had told her what he was up to, the Times would have gotten the scoop before the Post did and it would have been her name in the byline.  
  
It’s been a week since her visit to the Whyte Wyrm and 3 since Archie disappeared. The only communication she’d received from Archie was 2 days back in the form of a cryptic text from an unknown number:  
  
_Betty this is archie_  
_don’t worry about me...i’m safe_  
_can’t reveal too much but I’ll be back in a few days._  
_don’t get into trouble looking for me!_  
  
Betty had rolled her eyes at the message. If Jughead hadn’t told her exactly what Archie was doing, a message like that would have only worsened her fears.  
  
She unlocks her phone and opens the app to call her ride. She’s been working late today for her latest story, interviewing people in the more seedier neighborhoods, and even though her apartment is just a few blocks away, she doesn’t think it safe to walk back home. The street she’s standing on is quite empty and dimly lit with flickering lights. She can practically hear the disapproving voice of Alice Cooper in her head, if she knew that her daughter was out so late in a dangerous neighborhood.  
  
Her attention is on the phone, trying to figure out the right pickup point for her cab, until she notices a sleek black Mercedes slowly pull up in front of her.  
  
“Looking for a ride home miss?” The unfamiliar man in the passenger seat leers at her.  
  
Betty’s eyes widen as she takes a step back.  
  
“It’s dangerous for a pretty girl like you to be out this late,” he continues in his oily voice, “Let us drop you somewhere safe.”  
  
Betty clutches her phone, eyes darting around the empty street, ready to call for help. “No thanks,” she grits out, “I can get home on my own.”  
  
“Are you sure, miss? ‘Cause there are some bad people in this part of town.” Betty can’t stop a gasp as the man takes out a gun from his jacket and makes a show of examining it. “And you know, we could protect you from them.”  
  
_Shit, shit, shit! What have I gotten myself into this time?_  
  
Her thumb slowly moves around the number pad on her phone, dialing 911 without the man noticing. She’s ready to hit the call button when she feels a presence behind her and her arm being clutched in a vice grip. Her phone falls to the ground and the screen shatters.  
  
“Please excuse my colleague’s rudeness, Miss Cooper,” the man behind her says, “we are not here to hurt you.”  
  
Betty frowns, trying to hide her apprehension. “For some reason I find that very hard to believe. You know my name even though I haven’t told you who I am and you just broke my phone.”  
  
“I apologize for that,” the man says. “I noticed you were about to call the cops. And that would make this...awkward.”  
  
The man’s voice is smooth and he’s dressed in a suit. He looks almost professional. He probably is a professional, Betty realizes with growing fear. A professional henchman of some mob boss, not some small time thugs out to harass an unaccompanied woman.  
  
She finds her voice. “You mean more awkward than it already is?”  
  
The man in the car chuckles. “Boss did say you’re a feisty one.”  
  
She scowls at him. “And who exactly is your boss?”  
  
“That’s not important,” the man next to her says. “You’re a journalist for the New York Times, yes? Our boss would like to talk to you.” He moves forward the open the door to the backseat of the car. “And we’re here to escort you to him.”  
  
“Escort? Does that mean I don’t have a choice in the matter?” she asks, her voice sounding small.  
  
The man’s unsettling smile is all the answer she needs. She sighs and puts her shattered phone in her purse before getting into the car.  
  
-  
  
The drive is uneventful and unnerving. The man in the suit is sitting next to her in the backseat, looking straight ahead and completely silent. The man in the passenger seat is whistling an unfamiliar tune. The driver, Betty doesn’t manage to get a good look at.  
  
She looks out of the window, trying to figure out where they are taking her. She’s surprised to find the car navigating into brighter and busier streets.  
  
“Are we in Manhattan?” she asks but doesn’t get an answer.  
  
When the car finally stops, its in front of a fancy hotel. One of the men opens the door for her, and when she steps out she recognizes the building. The Four Seasons.  
  
“Is this where I’m meeting your boss?” she asks in surprise and the man in the suit nods at her.  
  
Their boss is loaded, she realizes, going by the Mercedes, the professional-looking henchmen and the 5-star hotel as a meeting point. She finds herself getting more curious than afraid to meet this mysterious man.  
  
“This way, Miss Cooper,” the man motions at her to follow him.  
  
Betty steps into the swanky lobby and immediately feels severely underdressed in her button-up and jeans, her hair held up in a messy bun coming loose from all the running around she had done all day doing interviews. “I would have gone home and cleaned up a bit if you’d told me we were going to the Four Seasons,” she says mock sweetly, but the man pays her no mind.  
  
He takes her up the elevators, down a hallway and stops in front of a room. “The boss will meet you in here shortly,” he tells her and opens the door.  
  
She enters the room and starts when he closes the door behind her. “Hey!” she yells, “why did you just…” She tries the door handle and swears when she finds it locked.  
  
She turns around to survey the room. The room is just as ostentatious as the rest of the hotel, with floor to ceiling windows on one end looking out to a gorgeous view of the city lights. There’s a king size bed on the other end, with bedding that looks so plush that Betty was sure she would sink right in. There’s table in front of the window, chairs on either side, with a bottle of champagne and 2 wine glasses laid out.  
  
Betty frowns, feeling unsettled. This isn’t the room someone would book for a meeting with a journalist. This room is far too...intimate.  
  
She digs into her purse and takes out her phone. Her first instinct is to call Jughead, even though she knows he would get pissed off at her for getting herself into this situation. Her phone screen blinks at her uselessly, unresponsive to her touch. She chucks it back in her purse not wanting to cut her fingers against the cracked screen.  
  
She tries the room phone next. “Of course it’s disconnected,” she grumbles as she slams the receiver back.  
  
She walks up to the table near the window and picks up the champagne bottle, turning it around in her hand like a weapon. If this ‘boss’ turns out to be some deviant, she would be ready for him.  
  
She contemplates screaming for help - there could be people in the next room who would hear her and help her. But she stops when she hears the sound of brisk footsteps outside the door. There’s a slide of a keycard, the door opens and Jughead walks in.    
  
“You,” she says.  
  
“Me,” he replies.  
  
She stares at him and he smirks at her, obviously enjoying her shock at seeing him there.  
  
“Did you intend to hit me over the head with that?” he indicates to the champagne bottle in her hand.  
  
“More along the lines of breaking it and stabbing you with the sharp pieces.”  
  
He chuckles and walks into the room. He’s dressed chicly in a blue shirt and grey trousers. It’s a far cry from his usual attire and, to Betty’s annoyance, makes him look extremely attractive.  
  
He takes the bottle from her and places it back on the table. “Now that would be waste of good alcohol.”  
  
She glares at him. “If you wanted to talk to me, you could have just called me. Was all this really necessary?”  
  
“Betty, you know how much I love messing with your pretty little head.” There’s a mischievous  glint in his eyes. “But I must say I’m a little disappointed,” he brings one hand up to her chin, holding it between thumb and forefinger, “I wouldn’t have expected you to be so eager to follow strange men into hotel rooms.”  
  
Betty feels her temper flare and she bats his hand away. “I wasn’t eager to do anything. In case you missed the memo, your henchmen didn’t give me much of a choice. And it was apparently on your orders.”  
  
“Oh? My orders were to be polite and courteous.”  
  
“They were neither,” she says curtly. “You owe me a new phone.”  
  
“They told me you were calling the cops. If all they did was break your phone, that was them being polite and courteous.”  
  
Betty narrows her eyes at his teasing grin. “You think this is hilarious, don’t you? Practically kidnapping me using your little lackeys so you can have a chuckle at my expense. The least you can do is replace my phone.” She jabs a finger against his chest. “Not like you can’t afford it.”  
  
“Bossy.” He grabs her hand and brings it to his lips. “Next time we have sex, maybe I’ll let you dominate me for a change.” The grin on his face is filthy.  
  
Betty glares at him, but she can feel her face flush with heat. “Presumptuous of you to think there’s going to be a next time,” she breathes out. Jughead simply hums in response, pulling her closer. “Wait, do you intend _this_ to be next time...?” She trails off as he kisses her cheek. “Jughead...” She feels his lips travel down her cheek to her jaw, to her neck.  
  
“Jughead!” she says, furiously pushing him away. “Are you serious right now? Is this why you brought me here?”  
  
Jughead steps away, face unreadable. “Would you like a drink?” he asks.  
  
Betty blinks. “What?”  
  
“A drink, would you like one?” He turns away to pick up the champagne bottle, ripping the gold foil at the top. “There seems to be only champagne here, but I can have something else brought up if you wish.” His face is turned away from her but she can hear the amusement in his voice.  
  
Betty sighs, feeling too tired to play his little mind games. “Jughead please. I’ve had a long day. Tell me what this is about.”  
  
There’s a soft pop as Jughead opens the champagne bottle. He lifts a glass and pours the liquid into it.  
  
“I had a chat with Archie yesterday.”  
  
Her eyes widen in surprise. “What? How? I thought Archie was in witness protection.”  
  
“Not anymore. Now that Hiram Lodge has been arrested.” He holds out the glass to her. “Thought we should celebrate.”  
  
“The ink on Hiram’s arrest warrant isn’t dry yet,” she says, taking the glass from him, “but look at you - already doing so well for yourself.”  
  
“You think all this is Hiram’s money?”  
  
“I don’t know what to think Jughead. You show up dressed like some rich businessman in one of the fanciest hotels in New York, and you have gunmen dressed in suits driving Mercedes. You can’t possibly expect me to believe that a small-time gang in Riverdale has this much money.”  
  
“Tsk tsk, whatever happened to your sleuthing skills Elizabeth Cooper? The Serpents are no longer a small-time gang.” He pours himself some champagne. “We have expanded. Quite a bit. And we have you to thank for it.”  
  
Betty tilts her head. “Is that so?”  
  
“Ever since your drug trafficking expose, the NYPD has been cracking down on all gangs around the city. It left quite a void in the city’s drug supply. A void that the Serpents were happy to fill. It’s been quite lucrative for us, as you can see.” He gestures around the room with both hands, a pleased smile on his face.  
  
Betty frowns. “And I’m supposed to what, feel good about that? What makes you any different from those other gangs?”  
  
“We only sell to the rich,” he says, gaze hard. “We take their money, and we give it to those who really need it.”  
  
Betty rolls her eyes. “How benevolent of you. Riverdale’s very own Robin Hood.”  
  
His lips curve into a half-smile at her gibe. “Now that Hiram’s gone, things are going to get even better for the Serpents.” He raises his glass. “May that evil bastard rot in jail for eternity.”  
  
“I can drink to that,” Betty says as she raises her own glass and sips from it. It’s probably ridiculously expensive, but she can’t tell the difference. She absently shakes the glass, making the clear golden liquid twirl inside. When she looks up she finds Jughead watching her keenly.  
  
“What?” she asks.  
  
“Aren’t you going to ask me?”  
  
“Ask you what?”  
  
“What Archie and I chatted about.”  
  
Betty freezes. Her heart starts to beat just a little faster, the implication of Archie and Jughead talking finally catching up to her. She should have seen this coming, that one day the lie she had built up over the last 2 years would blow up in her face. Yet here she is, tongue-tied and wrong-footed.  
  
“Reminiscing about old times?” she asks, trying to keep her voice light. “It’s been years since the last time you even saw each other, hasn’t it?” She inwardly curses at the slight tremor in her voice.  
  
“We didn’t have time for all that.” Jughead fixes her with a piercing look. “I told him I was the one who sent him the files about Hiram. In exchange he gave me some valuable information about the operations of Lodge Industries.”  
  
His face is unreadable. Betty swallows. “Glad to hear you two are getting along again.”  
  
“I also told him that you’d stopped by the Whyte Wyrm. Asked him why he hadn’t told his own girlfriend where he was.” His gaze is unyielding but his lips twitch ever so slightly. “And then he said something very interesting.”  
  
Betty bites her lip and looks away.  
  
“He said he doesn’t have a girlfriend. He hasn’t had one since Veronica broke up with him and moved to LA.” His eyes are narrowed, accusing. “I had to sit there and listen as he moped about how he was still in love with her and how he was doing all this to get her back.”  
  
Despite herself, Betty feels a smile tugging at her lips. “That does sound like Arch-”  
  
“Why did you lie to me Betty?” Jughead cuts her off sharply.  
  
Betty pauses. There are a hundred reasons she could give, yet she can’t think of one. “I thought - I thought it was better this way.”  
  
He scoffs, shaking his head. He downs his drink in one long swig and proceeds to pour himself more.  
  
The silence between them stretches.  
  
“Jughead, I’m sorry,” Betty says quietly.  
  
“You lied to me when you thought I was getting too attached. I get it. It was smart. Nothing good comes out of us getting too attached.” He’s facing away from her and she can’t see his expression. “We’re too...volatile to have a stable relationship. It’s easier, simpler to keep it strictly physical.” His voice is rough when he says, “You’re right. It’s better this way.”  
  
Even though its her words echoed back at her, Betty feels her heart sink.  
  
“Now that that’s out of the way,” Jughead says, turning back around to face her, “I’ll get to the reason I brought you here.” His face is shuttered, reflecting none of the emotion she’d heard in his voice moments ago.  
  
Betty gapes at him. “The reason you... you mean it wasn’t…”  
  
“I have a proposition for you,” he continues, ignoring Betty’s fumbling attempts at coherent speech, “something we could both benefit by.”  
She finds herself getting curious. “Alright, I’m listening.”  
  
“Tell me, how angry were you when you learned Spellman got the scoop on Hiram before you did?” The familiar, infuriating smirk is back on his face.  
  
Betty narrows her eyes. “Wait, were you the one who told her?”  
  
Jughead chuckles. “Come on Betty, you know I wouldn’t do that to you.”  
  
“Then why are you asking?”  
  
“Because I could have given you information on Hiram before Spellman even sniffed it. If you’d come to me sooner.”  
  
She raises an eyebrow skeptically. “And you would have just given me this information, free of charge.”  
  
“Yes, if it meant you publishing the story and bringing down Hiram Lodge.”  
  
Betty stays silent, considering his words.  
  
“So this is my offer -  stop using me as a last resort for information,”Jughead continues. “I can be your informant, and in return you would be my connection to the media. I only have one condition.”  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
Jughead’s gaze is steely when he says, “I don’t share. I will be the only source you’ll ever need. If I hear you’re associating with the Ghoulies or some other gang, this arrangement is off.”  
  
“Does that go both ways then? I will be your only media connection?”  
  
Jughead nods. “Yes, you have my word.”  
  
Betty chews her lips, considering. Jughead is right, they could both benefit quite a bit from this arrangement. He made it sound so simple, even though things between them were always anything but.  
  
“What do you say Betty?”  
  
“What about...” she starts to say. She sighs. “Wouldn’t this complicate our...relationship?”  
  
“I thought we just established that we don’t have one.” His voice is even, but there’s an undercurrent of something that Betty can’t quite place.  
  
“You know what I mean Jughead.”  
  
“No Betty, I don’t know what you mean.” He approaches her slowly, his gaze traveling down and then back up her body. “Are you saying that if we associate more often we’ll end up fucking more?”  
  
There’s a rush of warmth on her cheeks at his words. “Not how I would have put it, but yes that covers the gist of it.”  
  
He shrugs. “Don’t see why that’s a problem. As long as we keep emotions out of it.” His voice is a little too casual.  
  
Betty takes a deep breath. “Right.”  
  
“So what’s your answer Betty?”  
  
Betty considers the moral implications of what Jughead is asking - the conflict of interest in him being her sole contact to the underworld. She thinks back to her ‘Ethics in Journalism’ class in college. If she agrees to this, she would be breaking every rule she’d learnt back then.  
  
But it’s Jughead who’s asking. And she’s never been good at following rules anyway.  
  
“Alright,” she says. “You have yourself a deal.”  
  
Jughead’s lips curve into an achingly familiar grin. It was the grin he used to give her when they were teens - teaming up, looking for clues for their latest investigation for the Blue and Gold. She feels her heart clench.  
  
She clears her throat, trying to regain her composure. “So how does this work, do we shake hands or do pinky swears or something?”  
  
Jughead chuckles. “We could do pinky swears like we’re 11.” He brings one hand up to trail along her arm, his eyes heavy with intent. “Or we could seal the deal in a much less innocent, but much more interesting way.” He smirks.  
  
Betty can’t stop the betraying thrill that runs through her. “Is that why you booked a room with a king-size bed?”  
  
“Has the lack of a bed ever stopped us, Betts?”  
  
Her face flushes as she lets out a huff. It’s been years since he’s called her by that name outside of bed. “Charming.”  
  
“So I’ve been told.” He moves closer until his lips are a breath away from hers.  
  
“By charming, I mean infuriating and obnoxious.” Despite her words she makes no move to step away from his closeness.  
  
He looks at her through hooded eyes. “Are we going with pinky swears then?” he asks, voice teasing.  
  
She wraps her arms around his neck. “Shut up Juggie.” She feels his grin on her lips as she pulls him close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then he didn't let her leave that room for 2 days!! ...ahem...
> 
> I know this ending is a bit open-ended, but its also hopeful? :) Betty doesn't realize it yet but Jug's still fighting for them. 
> 
> I wanted to finish this story before the third season starts and I barely made it! Thank you everyone who commented, left kudos and followed this story for so long <3


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